


Lagring Sang (Storage Bed)

by spinner33



Series: CM - Close to Canon [5]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch seeks permission to date Reid.  Hotch enlists Reid’s help to assemble a new bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.  
_ _Swedish proverb_

 

Flying back after a case, this one in Maine, the plane had never been so quiet. There was tension in the air, tension and concern. The balance of the team was unsettled. Hotch knew it. He knew he was the cause of it too.

Hotch should have confronted Garcia right away about what she had been privy to, the kiss and embrace between himself and Reid, but he hadn’t done so. It had been six weeks ago now. It was much too late to say anything to her.

Perhaps part of Aaron wanted to avoid hurting Penelope unnecessarily. After all, it wasn’t her fault. He was the one who had forgotten the video and audio feeds were open. He was the one who had gone against good manners and good sense, and had done the first thing he could think of to calm and comfort Reid. He was the one who had given into the temptation that had been burning in his heart. Why blame Garcia for his own weakness?

The problem was, Garcia had not kept her mouth shut about what she had seen.

Call it paranoid suspicion. Call it instinct. Hotch should have confronted Garcia long ago, should have made sure at least that she understood that she shouldn’t say anything. Six weeks. It was too late to say anything to her now. The damage was done.

At first, he couldn’t put his finger on how anyone could have known except through Garcia, because it was a point of pride between Hotch and Reid, being so totally

professional at work that no one could waggle a finger, or point to a specific incident, or roll their eyes at any improper behavior. Discipline must be maintained, and there would be no favoritism. Yet in spite of this, everyone knew. So Garcia had to have opened her mouth.

What the rest of the BAU team imagined was far more tantalizing than reality. Hotch and Reid hadn’t so much as kissed since West Virginia. There had been a long hug or two. There had been a movie night last weekend, and a back rub which had ended with Spencer curled up asleep in Aaron’s arms. Hotch had sat perfectly still for the longest time, stroking Reid’s hair until they both had fallen asleep.

Reid was recovering from Mariner’s attack, and resuming normal activities at work, and he didn’t need the distraction of romance. The biggest side effects from the concussion appeared to be sensitivity to bright light and very mild narcolepsy. Or perhaps Reid was just easily tired out. The whole incident in the offices on his first Friday back? That had been an enormous cry for attention and work—give me something to do with myself! Inactivity would drive Reid insane. Aaron couldn’t bear the idea that his actions could lose Reid his job, and so, being mindful of Spencer’s state of health and state of mind, he had backed off from an overt inner- office relationship that could cost one or both of them their jobs. Except that backing off entirely wasn’t what he wanted, and it wasn’t what Reid wanted either.

Hotch was also mindful that what he had done, twice now, was wholly inappropriate, and the very wrongness of it weighed on him. He resolved to try again, but do it right the second time around. A rushed seduction was like a rushed meal—you were full, but your stomach was unsettled. This time Hotch would move more slowly. He would nudge Reid carefully towards the idea that Aaron did care about him in a romantic sense, that this wasn’t all about lust. Reid had to decide for himself if he felt the same way. Aaron didn’t want Spencer to feel obligated to respond in kind because he was totally under Hotch’s control. Hotch would show that he was interested, and he would let Reid make all the moves.

In spite of his feelings, Hotch was trying his level best to treat Reid like any other member of his team – important to him but not above the others – and Reid was responding very, very well to this equal treatment. Two weeks back to work, two cases under his belt, and Spencer was becoming himself again, even while pretending he didn’t feel Aaron’s concerned gaze on him at all times. In watching Reid, Hotch also watched other members of the team to gauge their responses to even the possibility that he was interested in the young doctor.

Garcia was the easiest to read, her open heart constantly on her sleeve. She beamed happily when she would see Hotch and Reid talking together, even if it was something as simple as “more sugar?” at the coffee pot. Maybe her sweet nature was the reason Hotch hadn’t been mad at her for opening her mouth. She probably had felt like she was spreading good news. Hotch did want the rest of the team to know without having to tell them himself. The very judicious use of a known mouthpiece was a good way to let out a trickle of information without printing it up in a memo.

_To: SSA Hotchner’s BAU Team_  
_From: SSA Hotchner  
_ _RE: Inner-office Romance_

_I may or may not be intent on winning the romantic affections of Dr. Spencer Reid. This may or may not be any of your business. Thank you for noticing, and not noticing as well. And thank you for not pointing out the impropriety of this strictly- verboten activity. That will be all. - AH_

JJ was more subtle but no less approving than Garcia was. Jareau made sure that Hotch and Reid were seated next to each other at the conference table at work, at the dinner table if they ate out as a group, leaving open the seat to Hotch’s right and taking the one to his left instead. Everyone else would look to JJ for direction, and take a different seat too. Reid, generally late, would take the seat to Hotch’s right, oblivious to the significance, and nod good morning to everyone. Or he would take the seat at the dinner table and not make the connection that the shift in seating made any difference. There was no way to fix this. Hotch could not make everyone sit where propriety dictated. What’s more, he liked having Reid near to him, being able to judge his mood each morning, or being able to very discretely profile his mood in the evening. JJ knew this, she had read him, and it annoyed Hotch that she had read him so damned well.

Prentiss kept her thoughts and her face neutral usually, but she had smiled a little too long when Hotch divided up tasks last week and took Reid with himself. That was easy to fix—Hotch paired Reid with Morgan on the case this week. Only that this made Emily frown at him in that way that said he was being an unfeeling jerk. Her permission might have mattered a bit more than everyone else’s, considering the fact she had had a prior personal relationship with Spencer. She was the one who would have the most to complain about, and yet, she was not complaining— not in public and certainly not in private either. She hadn’t exactly given permission, but she had denied it either, and so if her silence could be read as permission, Hotch felt that Emily approved.

Rossi disapproved. There was no putting a happy face on that. It pained Dave to watch interactions between Hotch and Reid, no matter how innocent, no matter how professional, no matter the circumstances. Reid even walked in the room, and Rossi would tense up. Hotch could feel in his bones that he and Rossi were going to be having A Serious Talk soon.

Morgan was outright angry at Hotch—there was no way he could have hidden it. He was seated next to Spencer on the plane tonight, and he was glaring in Hotch’s direction. Sure, Morgan had been protective of Reid before the Mariner incident. But now that Reid was finally allowed to work cases again with the BAU team, Morgan’s personal attentiveness skyrocketed. Morgan was obviously still stinging because when first awakening, Reid had been afraid of him. The fact that Reid had been somewhat out of his mind didn’t make any difference. Derek was worried that he was somehow frightening Reid on a regular basis and he needed to stop. The brutal teasing and physical man- handling of the younger, smaller agent came to an abrupt end. When he touched Reid, it was with great gentleness. The joking remarks about Reid’s vague sexuality had stopped as well.

Morgan was taking the self-appointed role of being Spencer’s guardian very seriously. On location this case, being paired with Spencer, Morgan had shepherded Reid around, stayed close to him, looked after him. During off-duty times the last two weeks, precious hours when Hotch would have liked the opportunity to have Reid all to himself, Morgan had been making every excuse to be around Reid. It was rare for Hotch to have a chance to talk to Spencer without Morgan calling to check up on him or actually showing up on his doorstep. The movie night had happened by accident, sort of. Well, Hotch might have turned Reid’s phone off. And his own cell off. And not answered the door when there had been quiet but insistent knocking. He told himself that he didn’t want to move because he would wake Reid up, and so he had ignored the door until the knocking stopped.

Flying back tonight from Bangor, Hotch watched with dismay as Reid fell asleep sitting up in his seat. Hotch fidgeted around in place as Morgan did all the things that he himself longed to be able to do— tilt Reid’s seat back so he wouldn’t fall over, pull a blanket from storage and tuck it around his skinny frame. Spencer shivered at the touch, and Morgan drew back, motioning “stay put” with both hands. Reid did not open his eyes. Morgan exhaled softly, as did Prentiss, who was seated across from Reid.

Morgan saw Hotch watching this, and Derek stayed put by Spencer’s side, giving Aaron an unsmiling, penetrating stare. All verbal conversation on the plane died away until landing had begun. Prentiss peered up over the back of the seat, catching Hotch’s eyes, ducking back down again. Aaron saw her boot Derek in the foot, and shake her head at him. Morgan frowned at her, and kept glaring at Hotch. Prentiss pulled out her cell and started tapping keys. Morgan’s cell vibrated. He pulled it out, and read the message. He booted Emily in the foot.

An unexpected shift, a waggle of the wings on descent, caused Spencer to jolt awake with a sharp yelp, terror on his face for a fleeting second before he was able to hide it again. Morgan took the closest, shaking hand and curled it with his own. Prentiss petted his knees. Reid calmed down quickly, or at least concealed his emotions behind his walls. Morgan and Prentiss let go of his extremities. Hotch noticed not for the first time in recent weeks how damned thin Reid was getting, especially in comparison to Morgan.

The Serious Talk between Morgan and Hotch consisted of an exchange on the tarmac after the flight. JJ took one look at Morgan, and bolted for her car. Rossi paused, looked to Morgan, got in his car, and drove away as well. Prentiss steered the drowsy Reid into the passenger seat of her car, and they were gone too.

Morgan stayed by Hotch, waiting for the others to leave. Derek then turned to Hotch and put a hand on the door of his vehicle, preventing him from opening it.

“I won’t let you take advantage of him again.”

The opening salvo was sharp and direct. Hotch blinked, not hiding the hurt that the accusation caused.

“I know what you did to Reid,” Derek explained. So, no surprise there.

Hotch cleared his throat, set down his bag, hoping that the video and audio link had indeed been disconnected on the laptop when he closed the cover.

“It wasn’t…it’s not…..I think you’ve misunderstood what happened,” Aaron struggled for words, knowing he was sounding like every other creep that preyed on vulnerable people.

“You don’t know how many times since I found out that I’ve wanted to walk up to you and punch you straight in the face,” Morgan declared angrily.

“I am not taking advantage of Reid,” Aaron managed to get the sentence out. Even he didn’t believe himself.

“How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I see what you were doing? You practically held him prisoner for a week. Driving him back home instead of flying? That was about having him to yourself, wasn’t it? Making him just insecure and vulnerable enough to fall under your spell? Getting him to imprint on you? Making him feel obligated to you for your kindness? Now he’s under your control, and he’ll do anything you ask him to do?”

“Morgan, I don’t know what Garcia told you, but….”

“She didn’t have to tell me anything. I saw.”

“Reid was upset. I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to comfort him. I kissed him.”

“Comfort?” Morgan demanded, screwing up his face in hatred and anger. “So was it comfort too when you drove him home drunk and fucked him into next week? Then yelled at me and Prentiss for letting him get drunk? Was that comfort?”

“No. That was stupid of me. Stupid and selfish.”

It occurred to Hotch that this situation with himself and Reid was dredging up memories for Morgan of his mentor Carl Buford who had taken advantage of him when he was a teen. That was the last thing Aaron had intended, but now that the parallels had come to mind, it made him feel that much more obligated to clear the situation up with Derek. He didn’t want to lose his team member’s confidence, or his friendship, over this misunderstanding.

Why was it that profilers could be the worst people about jumping to conclusions?

It also occurred to Hotch that he was dealing with another Alpha male. Maybe he didn’t have all his facts straight, and this display from Morgan was more of a territorial dispute than a protective reaction. He studied Morgan closely, wondering if he had missed the obvious. He stopped being diplomatic with his word choice.

“Am I in your space?” Aaron asked.

“In my space?” Morgan flushed.

“Are you already in a relationship Reid?”

“HOTCH! NO!” Derek sputtered, putting down his bag and throwing up his arms. “This isn’t about me wanting Reid for myself. This is about watching you use your position of power and authority over my friend, someone very vulnerable, someone with deep-set parental abandonment issues, someone with no self-esteem and even less self-respect, someone who will do anything to feel your approval, and someone who is dealing with another situation where he couldn’t defend himself and he was physically assaulted. I’m worried he thinks belonging to you will make him feel more secure, and I’m worried that you’re feeding those insecurities by making him feel that he can’t take care of himself.”

“I swear to you I’m…..another situation?” Hotch questioned, hearing his own voice give way.

“Didn’t you know?” Morgan stopped himself.

“Know what?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you private things.”

“You mean the business with Hankel? Morgan, did something happen between Reid and Hankel that Reid didn’t put into his report?”

“No. No. Not on the job. This was a long time ago. When he was in high school. I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s private.”

“Morgan, you should tell me, because Reid is never going to open up to me about things like that, but it’s things like that I desperately need to know, so I can avoid hurting him.”

They got in Hotch’s car and sat and talked. Morgan told Hotch about how in high school, Reid had been lured to the football field by a girl he had a crush on, and how he had been grabbed by the football team. How he had been stripped naked and tied up and left. How no one had come to his defense, just stood around watching no matter how much Reid had begged. How he had managed to free himself and make it home, only to have his mom be totally oblivious and unconcerned about his condition or his absence either one.

All the while as Derek spoke, all Hotch could wonder was what had really happened to Reid that day at the hands of the football players. The hair stood up on his neck and arms. He was terrified for that boy – had he been he all of twelve years old even? Hotch calculated the odds of nothing beyond being stripped and bound happening to someone in such a disadvantaged situation, and the odds were pretty unlikely the episode had ended the way Reid had said. Hotch suspected that what Reid had told Morgan was the PG-13 version, and not the entire truth about the situation.

What had Reid had to do to get someone to untie him? Hotch wanted to throw up. He couldn’t let himself imagine it. Hotch was pretty sure Morgan suspected Reid had lied about certain aspects of the incident, and yet he had the sensitivity not to say so either to Reid or to Hotch. No wonder Morgan was being so protective of Reid over the possibility of a sexual liaison with his boss. Hotch put his head in his hands, rubbed his forehead, cleared his throat and faced Morgan again.

“I promise you,” Hotch swore. “I have no intention of taking advantage of Reid. The last thing I would ever do is intentionally hurt him. I really do care about him. If it will make you feel better, you could even chaperone us.”

Morgan shook his head grimly. The distrust washed out of his features, but the concern in his eyes never wavered.

“There’s no way I could do that without insulting Reid, but I appreciate the offer. You just be careful with him. He might put up this tough front, but down inside, he is so, so fragile,” Derek warned. “Hotch, please. Please be careful with him.”

Morgan opened the door and disappeared into the night, striding across the tarmac and getting into his own vehicle.

Hotch sighed with relief. He had survived the first test. He had Morgan’s permission.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The second test came the next day. Saturday morning, he was cooking breakfast for Jack, who was anxious to leave. Aunt Jessica was taking him on her family vacation to the Poconos with her husband and children. They would be gone two weeks, and Jack was bouncing with excitement at the breakfast table as Aaron ladled eggs and toast and oatmeal for him.

“Did we pack your warmest pajamas?” Aaron worried again.

“Yep,” Jack said around bites of food, devouring everything voraciously.

There was a knock on the door. Eight in the morning? Jessica had said eight-thirty. She was early. Aaron turned off the flames on the stove and set down the oatmeal pan and raced for the door. Jack beat him to it though.

"Stop. What did I say? We do not open the door without first knowing who is on the other side,” Aaron cautioned. He lifted Jack up, and they peered through the small panes of glass.

“Oh! He works with you!” Jack said excitedly, waving. “Hi!!”

Dave Rossi stood on the other side of the door, half a smile on his face, wiggling his fingers in reply. Aaron undid the locks and the chain. Disarmed the security system. Let in the morning light. Became Hotch instead of Dad.

“Good Morning? Is it too early?” Rossi worried.

“No, come in,” Hotch said. “Go back and finish breakfast,” he said to Jack, who raced back to the table. Hotch was drying his hands on a kitchen towel as Rossi followed him across the tiles.

“I’m going on vacation!” Jack announced.

“Poconos. Aunt Jessica and her family,” Hotch explained. Rossi nodded. “Breakfast?” Hotch offered.

“I haven’t jogged yet.”

“Have some oatmeal. It will help. You want eggs?” Hotch smiled.

Rossi agreed to the oatmeal but not to the eggs. He sat down at the table, let Jack help him put raisins and brown sugar in his bowl. Nibbled politely, added more milk. Hotch grabbed toast and jam, scooted it towards Rossi. They ate to the music of Jack chattering about trees and forests and mountains and such, until eight- thirty came and Aunt Jessica arrived and then the house was so much more quiet without that little chattering voice to ease the silence.

The second Serious Talk began with a whimper instead of a bang.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too hard on you last night,” Rossi soothed.

Hotch raised a brow and gave Rossi another ladle of oatmeal.

“Not so much,” Hotch lied.

“This whole business with Reid has Morgan on edge. Forgive him his anger.”

“Already done,” Hotch promised truthfully. He waited, long enough to worry that maybe he had read Rossi wrong, that the veteran agent wasn’t going to grill him at all. But he wasn’t wrong.

“After all the stuff that happened in Kansas, he’s imprinted to you. Reid, that is,” Rossi began again, more matter-of-fact this time. He was working up his nerve, or he was treading lightly. Either way, once he had sure footing, he would dive in deeper, no doubt.

“What do you mean?” Hotch asked.

“Transference of a sort after a traumatic event, like orphan ducklings to the farmer who cares for them after their mother is killed.”

Hotch watched Rossi, waiting for the meat of the conversation to follow the small appetizer. Dave watched Hotch for signs of anger, and lowered his voice even more, daring to continue.

“You made Reid feel safe. He latched onto you because you made his monster go away. He sees you like a child sees a parent. He’s being clingy, annoying maybe.”

“Not so much,” Hotch smiled.

“Be careful. That kid’s got issues.”

Hotch raised his brows at this. “No kidding,” he mumbled.

“It’s never wise to get involved with someone you work with,” Rossi added.

“Pot, meet kettle,” Hotch murmured. Rossi shrugged one shoulder.

“Pupil, be more wise than your teacher, and learn from his mistakes,” Dave added.

“I disagree about transference. Something Morgan said makes more sense. It’s more like Stockholm Syndrome. Even if it wasn’t my intention, I essentially  
kept Reid prisoner for an entire week, keeping him in the hotel room and then driving him home alone. He wasn’t in his right mind. He became entirely dependent on me, and it’s been hard for him to shake that feeling of obligation to me. Then I had to go and confuse him even further with….um…..”

Rossi had been given his invitation. He took a deep breath, and he launched into what he had wanted to say for weeks now.

“I heard him, you know. Heard him scream your name.”

“What?”

“That night. I heard Reid screaming your name. It woke me up. Why didn’t I get out of bed?”

“There’s no use going over it in your mind. What’s done is done.”

“No. You don’t understand. I heard him scream, and thought you were already with him. I thought you and he were together.”

“What? Oh…you thought…”

“Those things you said to Mariner? You might have said those things to get a rise out of Mariner, but you meant them. You were speaking from the heart. Your mouth got away from your brain. I think Reid sensed on some level that you meant what you were saying, and you freaked him out, big time.”

“Perhaps I did,” Aaron admitted.

“So I thought, you know, maybe you two had talked and you had come to an understanding. I thought you were making bells ring for him, and I didn’t want to intrude. I heard thumping and pounding, Reid screaming your name, and I told myself the next morning, I was going to punch you both in the mouth for waking me up. I tried to go back to sleep. It wasn’t until I heard Morgan’s door open, heard him stampede into the hallway and pound on Reid’s door, not until I heard you in the hallway outside the room instead of inside the room, that it finally dawned on me that I had misinterpreted what was going on in Reid’s room.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Hotch, I’ve been feeling so damn guilty all this time, I can barely look Reid in the face. If I had gotten out of bed and checked on him when he first shouted, I might have been able to do more than stand there watching him scream and bleed when we finally got that door open. I was twenty steps away.”

“Well, if I hadn’t taken the time to put on my shirt and pants before going downstairs, I would have been at his door before Mariner even got in the room.”

“What?”

“I was the one Reid was arguing with on the phone when Mariner was prowling outside in the hallway at the hotel. I was making Reid shout. Mariner found him because of me. I had called to apologize, and Reid started yelling at me. I told him to calm down, that I’d come downstairs, and we could talk in person.”

“You were headed down to Reid’s room even before you heard the commotion?”

“Yes.”

Rossi mused a sad chuckle and shook his head. “We’ll know next time,” Rossi decided. Hotch agreed tiredly. “You’re doing a good job, by the way.”

“Good job of what?”

“Not showing favoritism. I think you should maybe not try so hard though.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t go too far the other direction.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“God knows I’ve had enough experience….” Rossi let the thought dangle into silence for a few moments. “Is he always that loud?”

“Um…what?” Hotch fumbled. Rossi shook the question away.

“The most important thing to ask yourself about the situation you’re in is if you would care so much about what happened if you weren’t involved with Reid, if you weren’t sleeping with him.”

“What?” Hotch bit the word out this time.

“Would you being feeling this guilty about what happened if you weren’t sleeping with him?”

“Yes. It is my fault. I should have never let that monster near Reid. It’s not the answer that confused me, it’s the question. How could you even ask that?” Hotch blurted as he narrowed his eyes.

“You’re human, Hotch. The possibility of sex can be a powerful motivator, especially for a man.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Father Confessor, but since you almost asked, I will almost tell you. I have slept with Reid once. Once. It was months ago. Long before any of this happened. Long before he went on vacation. Before he came back. Before Mariner. Before the amnesia. Before the drive back.”

“Was he loud then?”

“Why do you keep asking that?”

“The quiet ones. They’re always noisy in bed. I’m curious. Indulge me.”

“He was drunk. Not himself. Shouldn’t judge him from….” Hotch stammered. Rossi was still staring, still waiting. “He was pretty vocal. Lots of dirty language. Have I indulged you enough yet?”

“I was curious is all. I had a girlfriend in college like that. So sweet. So peaceful. So quiet. So meek. First time we slept together, she scared the daylights out of me, she was so loud. The screaming. The growling. The cursing. The biting. More than you want to know?”

“Mm hmm,” Hotch nodded, finding a half smile.

“So you slept with Reid when he was drunk?”

“Yes, and I’m not proud of that,” Hotch moaned in pain, wincing.

“But there he was, and you wanted it, and he was willing, and…”

“He made the first move,” Hotch confirmed. Dave’s face lit up.

“I knew it,” Rossi smiled.

“Knew what?”

“Aaron, you cannot be that blind. He’s always had feelings for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gideon knew, and that’s why he encouraged you to add Reid to your team. You wouldn’t have taken him on unless Gideon had convinced you he could be useful. Maybe Gideon knew how Reid felt, and he was, I dunno, doing you both a favor at the same time. Reid is like a faithful puppy. You can’t help but notice the way he looks at you.”

“How he….looks…..at me?” Clearly Hotch had failed to notice at all. He flushed with warmth. Had Gideon known about Reid’s feelings? If so, then why had Gideon been so encouraging towards Prentiss when it was clear Reid had feelings for her? It didn’t take long to answer his own question. Gideon wanted whatever made Reid happy. If that was Prentiss, fine. If that was Hotch, fine.

“It’s understandable, what you’re doing, okay? After what happened with Haley, it’s too soon to want another woman in your life, and so you decided you might see how the other half lived?” Rossi said.

“Half asked. Half answered. I’ve always known how the other half lived,” Aaron replied. “I was never unfaithful to Haley. She knew I was bisexual before I did, and she was okay with that. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m okay if you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“So why was Garcia going on about this? She made it sound like ‘Gone with the Wind’ or ‘Titanic’ or something.”

“She saw me kissing Reid. I was being comforting. That’s all.”

“I understand. He was upset. He was crying. You wanted to stop him from crying. A soothing kiss is much better than a pillow over the face. Bit of gentle groping— you were hoping to take his mind off the pain. Sex, or the promise of sex, we often use it to distract or to release emotional pain. For ourselves. For those we love. That’s not unreasonable. We want to comfort those we care about, and sexual release is a useful tool. In some cases, the only tool that will work.”

Hotch winced. He couldn’t believe he had fallen prey to that ploy. Hotch knew then that Garcia did have video footage, that she had shown it, and that he might have to bribe her very heavily to destroy the mpeg. He also knew that Rossi was fishing for whatever else he could glean from the words spoken, and the words left unspoken as well. It was difficult to duel with such a master of deception. The only foil left to Hotch was the truth. Is that what Rossi wanted to hear though?

“My professional opinion is that somewhere in Reid’s life, sex and pain and comfort got fused together, and it’s still in his head. I don’t pretend to know the answer to the riddle of where and why and how, but you need to be sure of what you’re doing with him. He believes he needs all three to be truly happy. You give him one, he won’t be satisfied. You give him two, he won’t be happy yet. You better be prepared for what happens if you don’t give him all three. Or conversely, if you do,” Dave cautioned.

“I care about Reid. Like I told Derek, the last thing I want to do is hurt Spencer any more than he has already been hurt,” Hotch promised. “I offered to let Morgan chaperone us if it would make him feel better. He refused, of course.”

“Okay. I believe you. You have Reid’s best interests in mind. I can see that. All I’m saying is that I think you would not be so hard on yourself about this Mariner situation if you weren’t sleeping with Reid, or hoping to sleep with him again.”

“Would you care more about what happened if he was half your age and female and there might be a chance you could be sleeping with him? Or her?”

“What are you saying?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Hotch repeated more sharply.

“Yeah. I heard you the first time. The irony of me giving you this speech, it has not escaped me,” Rossi murmured.

“I don’t see how it possibly fucking could,” Hotch answered. He found a short snort of amusement and a broad smile. Rossi took a bite of oatmeal and chuckled, bowing his head and smiling.

The second test was done. He had Rossi’s permission too.

“What’s the big box by the stairs?” Rossi asked.

“New bed,” Hotch muttered. “The bolts on my headboard gave way.”

Rossi’s eyes went wide, then closed tightly. He shook his head once or twice, moved his hand back and forth as well to clear whatever images his brain had fed to him. Hotch could not let the comment pass unexplained.

“I was sleeping alone at the time. I rolled over in the middle of the night, and the left half of the bed hit the floor. I grabbed my gun – almost shot the lamp on the nightstand before I realized what it was. The bolts have been loose for some time. I tightened them again, but the holes are stripped out. The bed has gotta be ten years old now. Time for a new one. You any good with that kind of thing?” Hotch asked Rossi.

“What kind of thing?”

“Furniture marked ‘assembly required’?”

“No, sir. You’re barking up the wrong Italian here. I am no good with my hands outside of the kitchen.”

“Hm. I’m no good at it either. I spent a week putting Jack’s crib together before he was born. Damn thing never worked right. The side would drop down unexpectedly for no good reason. Haley was afraid to let him sleep in it. I don’t know what possessed me to buy another bed marked assembly required.”

“It looked good in the showroom?”

“It’s practical. It’s nice. It’s big. It’s…”

“Not the same bed you slept in with Haley, and you feel weird about fucking Reid in the same bed where your dead wife slept.”

Hotch stopped cold for a moment, taking a drink of milk.

“Maybe,” he acknowledged without meeting Rossi’s penetrating eyes. “Did you buy a new bed for each wife?”

“Yes, I did. Call it superstitious. It didn’t feel right not to buy a new bed each time.”

Hotch laughed wickedly. Rossi stilled and waited for an explanation of the outburst.

“You must have the mattress man on speed dial,” Hotch grinned.

“Fuck you, Aaron Hotchner,” Rossi laughed too. They dwelled on private thoughts, sharing the last piece of toast, each one smiling to himself.

“What about Morgan? Is he any good at ‘assembly required’?” Rossi asked.

“Can he read German or Swedish? I dug around inside the box. I only found part of the instructions.”

“Hm,” Rossi commented. “Tough break.”

“Yeah,” Hotch agreed grimly.

“How good are you at spatial puzzles?” Rossi asked.

“Not my best attribute,” Hotch admitted.

Dave ate his toast and finished the last bit of milk in his glass. A private and amusing thought hit his brain, and a cryptic smile wove around his mouth, ruffling his salt and pepper whiskers.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Dave grinned, heading for the door. Hotch walked him there, undid the locks.

“Enjoy your jog. Chilly weather. Good for that sort of thing.”

Rossi turned around on the stoop, faced the door one last time, and assumed such an innocent face that Hotch was immediately suspicious.

“Does Reid know Swedish?” Rossi asked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hotch answered as neutrally as possible. Inside, he was jumping up and down with anxious excitement though.

“See you Monday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Rossi smiled, and was on his way.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer lay sprawled in his bed, a book folded closed over the fingers of one hand, the other hand poised, fingertips stroking the middle of his chest under the shirt he was wearing. Hotch’s shirt.

‘Who needs a hobby, like tennis or philately? I’ve got a hobby—rereading Lady Chatterley.’

Words from a song danced through his head and made a smile ghost across his face. He closed his eyes and nestled down further under the covers, letting them hide him up to his nose. He let the book fall away. He was going to need that other hand.

He shifted around the pillows, and imagined Hotch’s rough hands on his skin, and touched himself where he imagined Hotch had touched him. Half-dreaming, he remembered smooth lips and a warm tongue and white hot heat and wetness and suction around his cock. Remembered curling his fingers through short, dark hair which bristled and tickled against his thighs and abdomen. Remembered that tongue circling the head of his cock and teasing up and down his shaft.

His cell phone rang on the bedside table. He pined softly in despair. Maybe God was watching after all. Hadn’t his grandmother said that once?

One hand escaped the covers and picked up the phone, drawing it inside his little nest of self-absorption.

“Mm...hello?” he rumbled, not bothering to hide that this call might have been an interruption of far more important things.

Hotch’s familiar breathing rasped on the other end of the line. Reid heard that pattern of breathing in his sleep sometimes. It soothed and calmed him. Made him feel safe. Made him nervous. Made him feel wanted. Made him feel scared. Made him feel loved.

“Hello?” Spencer whispered again.

”Du är skyldig att montera (You are required to assemble),” Hotch answered. Reid did not recognize the words at first, until his brain jumped awake and pushed to the surface ahead of animal lust. Someone unfamiliar with the language was reading Swedish words at him, parsed into neat syllables. ”Du behöver skruvmejsel (you will need a screwdriver),” Hotch continued. Spencer chuckled deep and soft.

“What am I going to need a screwdriver for?” he asked sleepily.

“Oh, thank god. You do speak Swedish.”

“I can manage.”

“If you’re not busy, may I borrow your brain?”

“Will you give it back when you’re done?”

“Oh, yes. I will even wash and dry and polish it if you want. Reid, I need your help.”

“I need to get dressed,” Spencer murmured.

Hotch drew in a heavy breath, not of exasperation, but of arousal.

“It won’t take me five minutes to pull some clothes on,” Spencer added softly.

“You won’t need clothes,” Hotch heard himself say. Spencer gave a tiny squeak of delight in response.

“Hotch, they are not going to let me on the Metro like this,” Reid whispered.

“Like what?” Hotch asked.

Spencer chuckled again, followed by a soft exhalation that could have been a low moan if you listened very carefully, which Hotch was.

“What are you wearing?” Hotch wondered.

“Not much,” Spencer answered, feeling perfectly sinful with his boxers pushed down between his thighs and his shirt pushed up his middle, his naked rear brushing warm sheets, and Hotch’s rich, wonderful voice in his ear.

“I’m in the hallway. Come to the door.”

“My hallway?” Spencer asked, looking up at the wall behind his headboard. Hotch was three feet away. Maybe four. In a parallel universe with five minutes’ difference in time and space, if Spencer had been touching himself, if he had been calling Hotch’s name loud enough, Aaron would have heard him. Reid was so turned on by the idea that he moaned again.

“I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me,” Hotch said humbly.

“I am getting up. I am getting dressed,” Spencer answered slowly.

“I’ll wait,” Hotch promised.

Aaron hung up the phone and began tapping the front door in a steady rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Feet were flapping down the inside hallway, approaching fast. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone slid to the doorway and grabbed the lock and undid the chain. Spencer opened the portal, looking ruffled, drowsy, unshaven. He was half-hard inside the tight khaki jeans he had pulled on. He finished buttoning the fly and pulled the hem of his shirt down. Raised his eyes to Hotch before dropping them again shyly. Let his wild hair dangle in his face. Reid leaned on the door frame, sucked in his bottom lip and nibbled on it, not unlike a naughty child expecting to be yelled at.

Hotch inhaled sharply, staring. No man should look that delicious fresh out of bed on a Saturday morning without expecting to be ravaged. And Hotch hated himself for thinking ”ravage” when he saw Reid, but it had been a primal response of instant and overwhelming desire. Hotch saw that Reid was wearing his white shirt, knew that he had probably slept in it, judging from the wrinkles. Aaron’s heart throbbed with warmth and happiness.

“Is it cold out? Do I need a sweater?” Spencer said. ”Come in. Would you like coffee? Or tea? Or anything else?”

The additional options remained unvoiced but not unspoken. Spencer had seen the pure (or impure?) lust in Aaron’s eyes, and although his first response had been fear, Reid was also flattered, because it was Hotch, and he trusted Hotch, and he wanted Hotch to want him. Visible lust burning in Hotch’s intense, dark eyes was rare. Lust from Hotch should be treasured, like sunshine burning through the gray clouds of an overcast day.

Hotch brushed into the book-filled apartment, stealing in the scent of fresh bedclothes and musky warm arousal as he brushed his nose close to Spencer’s wild hair. He suddenly needed to touch that hair, and his hand was moving upwards, and his fingers were smoothing those locks, and his thumb briefly stroked the shell of Reid’s ear as he pulled his hand away.

“Sorry to get you out of bed,” he offered. Reid closed the door, shrugging his slight shoulders, offering a self- deprecating smile.

"It is almost ten. Such decadence," Reid whispered with the hint of a strange accent. Hotch couldn't place the words, but knew that Spencer was quoting something he had heard someone else say. But who?

Hotch wasn’t so sure they were going to get out of the apartment without him taking those tight pants back off of Reid. He watched Spencer walk towards the bathroom and kitchen, and he followed, enjoying the view all the way.

”Coffee is in there. Need to brush my teeth,” Reid was mumbling, pointing towards the other arched doorway from where he was headed.

Coffee could wait. Hotch stood in the doorway and watched Spencer brush his teeth.


	4. Chapter 4

Four hours and thirty minutes later, Aaron was tapping on the bedroom door in his own home, the bedroom he had been forcibly locked out of about an hour ago when he had started vehemently cursing all things Swedish and unassembled. He also might have been wielding a rubber mallet and getting in touch with his inner un- sub. He had had enough time to cool off and get his calm back. He was feeling sheepish for having made a scene.

“Can I come in? I promise to behave.”

“Are you going to curse at me again?” Spencer asked from behind the closed door.

“I was not cursing at you. I was cursing at the bed.”

“I’m the only animate object here. Unless you know how to talk to furniture, I have to assume you were talking to me.”

“I was cursing at the bed, and the bastards who sold it without making sure all the drill holes were drilled where they needed to be drilled in the first place.”

A whirring machine answered him. The drill?

“Please unlock the door. I promise not to curse. Not at you. Not at the bed.”

A different machine whirred. The electric screwdriver this time.

“Please?”

Footsteps padded across the room, crinkling brown paper and plastic wrap. The bedroom door unlocked. It opened a crack.

“Did you put away the mallet?”

“I don’t have the mallet.”

“Show me your hands.”

Aaron showed both hands, feeling silly and also totally bemused at the way Reid was bossing him around. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“Are you going to behave?”

“I will behave.”

Spencer opened the door and beckoned Hotch in. The bed frame was nearly complete. The drawers were fully assembled as well, sitting to one side, waiting to be slid into place. Reid had been a busy boy. Hotch was quick to note Reid had been peeling off layers of clothes as the cool morning faded into an over-warm afternoon. His oatmeal-colored, heavy wool sweater lay on the trunk that had been pushed under the windows. His shoes were next to the trunk. He was padding around the floor in a solid blue sock and a green-gray striped sock. He was damp, and sweaty, and had traces of sawdust and Styrofoam particles clinging to him. His left index finger had a bloody nick on the knuckle. He licked the edge and drew away a drop of blood.

Reid walked over the electric cord for the drill, walked back over plastic wrap, stepped through the middle of the unfinished frame, and bent downward and forward in order to drill another hole in the bottom of the headboard. He eyed the mark, slid down on one knee, slid down on the other knee, and straddled the middle of the frame.

“No cursing,” Spencer warned, tipping his safety glasses back down and putting a tidy hole through the wood.

Can I help?” Hotch pleaded.

Spencer lifted up the drill and cord as he rose to his feet. He made his way carefully through the frame and back out of it again. He coiled the cord up by the door and neatly folded the drill back down inside its carrying case. He left the safety glasses on the carrying case.

“I need to put the last screw through the hole there. That beam of wood is meant to be the middle of the frame to hold the drawers in place. Once it’s been secured, we can put the drawers in, put the mattress on,” Reid answered.

Hotch quickly snatched up the electric screwdriver and put the last screw in place, then picked up the nearest drawer. He tilted it, dropped the side wheels slowly into the tracks, and gently pushed it towards the middle of the bed. It fit perfectly. The other five drawers slid in perfectly as well.

Hotch stood back to admire the handiwork as Reid tugged plastic wrap up off the carpet and balled it together in a huge bundle. He put the screwdriver with the drill and safety glasses and then stood next to Hotch.

“We’ll have to vacuum, of course,” Spencer said absently. “Oh. Found the rest of the directions,” he added, giving Aaron a booklet of paper that had been resting on the top of the dresser.

“Great. A veritable Rosetta Stone. Help me with the mattress?” Hotch asked.

Spencer leapt up to grab the end of the new mattress, letting Hotch lead the way. Once it was in place, they both stood back and studied the finished product, although it was naked of sheets and coverlets and pillows and such.

“What do you think?” Spencer asked. Hotch frowned, shaking his head.

“It’s not done yet. It’s missing something.”

Reid glanced around the floor, around the bed, narrowing his eyes.

“What did I miss?” Spencer asked, truly peeved. He had created perfection, and he fully expected to be praised for it. Hotch moved him left, right, left again, and finally, picked him up and set him on the mattress.

“That’s it. That’s exactly what I need in my bed,” Hotch murmured.

Reid blushed bright red, sitting back up. Hotch bent down to brush his lips to Reid’s mouth. Spencer dodged back.

“Is this okay?” Hotch asked, rubbing his nose gently to Reid’s nose.

Spencer nodded unsurely.

“If I do anything that is not okay, you’ll tell me, all right?” Aaron whispered.

Spencer nodded again. Aaron eased himself down onto the floor, nuzzling Reid’s scruffy chin, across his cheek, to his right ear, directly to his pleasure point, intent on revving the young genius’s motor for a few minutes. Spencer pulled back from him.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked.

“ ‘m hot and sweaty,” Spencer whispered.

“Not a deterrent,” Hotch promised. “Thank you (kiss), thank you (kiss), thank you (longer kiss). Where would I be without you?”

“Sleeping on that big couch in the study, I imagine,” Reid smiled vaguely, raising his hands between himself and Aaron. Hotch read the warning signs and slowed down. He took Reid’s wounded left hand, kissed the nick on his knuckle, darted a touch of tongue across the small wound. Watched Reid’s eyes dilate as the wet warmth brushed his skin.

‘Somewhere in Reid’s life, sex and pain and comfort got fused together.’ Rossi’s warning came back to Hotch’s mind as he bared his teeth in a wicked smile.

“I have wanted to ask all day. What exactly you were doing when I arrived at your apartment this morning?” Hotch whispered, nestling between Reid’s legs, putting his hands around Reid’s waist.

Reid closed his eyes, and shook his head no as he let a smile trace his lips.

“You don’t want to tell me?” Hotch wondered, caressing slowly up Spencer’s back.

Reid shook his head no again, his hands balanced against Hotch’s chest, keeping him as far away as was comfortable. Hotch let him decide what was best.

“I bet I can guess,” Aaron whispered, nipping at his left earlobe this time. Spencer cringed and conjured a tiny, nervous laugh.

Hotch stopped, watching Reid’s face. His mouth was folding in upon itself. He was frightened.

“What is it?” Hotch worried.

“I’m….I’m……not used to…not…..”

“Not used to what?”

Spencer shook his head again, eyes still closed. Hotch caressed his jaw, his chin, lifting his head from his chest.

“Open your eyes,” Aaron said. Spencer obeyed slowly. “Not used to what? Actual flesh and blood people in your arms instead of whatever fantasies are dancing around in that brain of yours?”

Reid’s angelic face shifted, went hard and dark and angry. Hotch knew he had pushed the wrong button, but at least he had gotten an honest reaction, had brought Reid out from behind his defensive walls.

“I swear to God, if you’re playing me for a fool, if you’re seducing me as some kind of joke, I will kill you, and hide you, and they will never find a trace of you, ever again,” Reid warned, his voice rising and quivering.

“Okay,” Hotch said carefully. He had Morgan’s permission. He had Rossi’s. He assumed he had Prentiss’s. He knew he had JJ and Garcia’s. He did not, however, have Spencer’s permission, and that seemed a fundamental place to start.

“Hotchner, I’ve been all over this country with you, and if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s where to put a body so no one will ever find it. I’ll make up a story about how the pressure of the job got to you, and you felt you didn’t have any choice but to leave. I lie pretty fucking well. You know I do. I swear I will make you disappear if you’re toying with my emotions as some kind of goddamn joke,” Reid squeaked.

“Okay,” Aaron smiled this time. Reid was going bright red, hearing his own emotional words roll back in the room. “Why don’t we….you haven’t eaten yet, have you? You go take a shower, and I’ll make dinner for you. Or, a much more sensible choice, I will order dinner in for you. It’s the least I can do, feed you dinner,” Hotch offered carefully.

Reid agreed with a small nod and a loud gulp. Hotch longed to kiss that gulp as it moved along Spencer’s pale neck.

“The bed looks wonderful. How do I say that in Swedish?” Hotch asked.

“Säng…..mm….anh…..Hotch….”

Aaron couldn’t help himself. He slid one hand up Reid’s shirt. Spencer moaned out lustfully as Hotch smothered his mouth with a passionate kiss. He kissed Spencer dizzy, not allowing him to take a breath for nearly a minute, all the while thumbing his nipples, drawing short fingernails down his back. He took Reid’s skull in both hands and ground their mouths together harshly, roughly.

Reid groaned and arched against Hotch wantonly as Hotch pinned him back against the mattress. Reid’s hands went tight against the mattress at first, and then clutched at Hotch’s back, pulling at his shirt. Aaron stood halfway up, drawing both Reid’s hands into one of his own and holding them above Spencer’s head. The groaning turned to whimpers.

Hotch withdrew gently from the kiss, keeping his dominant stance over Reid. He refused to let go of Reid’s hands. Soul-haunting brown eyes pleaded with Aaron from an inch away as they both panted.

Hotch carefully let go of Spencer’s hands, and kissed his way down Spencer’s chest, pushing the shirt out of his way, finding the top button of the fly of the tight khakis. He bit the button open with teeth and tongue. Aaron lapped at Reid’s navel, delighting in the sexual electricity that was making Spencer shiver. Neither could pretend that the hint of danger and fear wasn’t turning them both on. Hotch bit the second button open as well, finding a blue plaid waistband under his nose. Fingers grabbed his hair, not gently at all.

“Stop….stop…” Spencer breathed. Hotch stopped at once, rubbing cheek and nose bumpily down over the bulge in Reid’s khakis.

“Dinner,” Aaron whispered, giving a kiss, a kiss, a long lick from abdomen to navel. ”Dinner first. Okay?”

Spencer was panting loudly as Hotch rose back up, standing before him and not over him. The change in stance made a difference in the terror radiating from Reid’s boyish face.

“Dinner first. Aren’t you hungry?” Aaron insisted.

“I....I could eat,” Reid agreed tentatively, clearing his throat, biting his mouth tight.

Hotch traced through Reid’s hair. “What’s your pleasure, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer squirmed deliciously.

“We can get dressed and go out to eat. Or would you rather stay in?” Hotch continued. ”In or out?” Hotch whispered, leaning down. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured into Reid’s ear. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

”Inside,” Reid said hoarsely. It was clear he wasn’t thinking about food, not the way his eyes were burning.

”Dinner first,” Aaron promised. He hooked one finger into the hem of Reid’s shirt and tugged it slowly and gently over his head. Hotch knelt again, purposefully going for a submissive posture. Using only his mouth, he latched onto one nipple, lavished and sucked, until Spencer’s fingers crawled into his short, dark hair. Instead of motioning for him to stop, Spencer was guiding Hotch to the other side of his chest. Hotch paused for a small smile, and obliged. The only sounds in the room were Reid’s fast-racing pulse, and tiny, breathy grunts of pleasure.

Hotch stopped abruptly, and Reid whined as if in actual pain.

“Take these off. We’ll throw them in the washer. I’ll find some other clothes for you to wear.”

Hotch retreated out of arms’ reach and headed for the closet. He pulled out a pair of dark blue sweats and tossed them on the bed. Spencer stayed sprawled across the mattress the wrong way. He lay in place for several seconds, struggling to catch his breath, knees spread apart, pants even tighter than before. One hand held the balled-up shirt against his bared stomach and abdomen. The other hand slid to cover his face for a moment before falling backwards through his hair. He breathed raggedly, mouth open, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

Hotch was holding that lovely image in his mind as he padded downstairs to get his car keys and his wallet.


	5. Chapter 5

Reid was on the divan in the study, staring at the blank tv, when Aaron came back through the door forty-five minutes later. Reid was wearing Hotch’s bathrobe. One bare knee peeked through the front, a hint of thigh, a patch of white hip. The robe was apparently all he was wearing. Hotch almost dropped dinner right there on the floor.

“The clothes didn’t fit?” Hotch asked innocently. Reid shook his head no.

“Too big,” he whispered fearfully.

“Oh. Pity,” Hotch replied, half smiling. Reid looked ready to cry.

“What I said earlier….” Spencer began. “I was angry. I’m sorry.”

“You were angry,” Aaron agreed. “Apology accepted. Shall we eat here, or in the kitchen, or upstairs in bed?”

“I….spoke out of turn….I……would never….hurt…..wouldn’t……I…..”

“It’s good to know where you stand on the topic of being played for a fool. I want you to understand that hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind,” Hotch whispered. “Kitchen table, couch, or bed?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer answered woefully. Hotch put the food on the coffee table, and stood in front of Reid, reaching down and cupping his chin in one hand.

“You decide. Kitchen table, couch, or bed?”

Reid shrugged his shoulders soundlessly. Hotch gripped his chin a bit tighter.

“This divan is the perfect size for two, and the cushions are very comfortably padded. I don’t want to hurt your knee or your back,” Aaron said.

Reid blinked in confusion, not following.

“The kitchen table isn’t nearly as comfortable. The edge might leave marks on your hips. Not sure it would stand up to too much wear and tear, bump and grind. But the idea of you sprawled face down across the middle of it, screaming my name while I’m fucking you, that is a very tempting thought.”

Hotch thumbed Reid’s mouth, and Spencer’s eyes got so wide that Aaron nearly laughed out loud.

“Would you rather go straight to bed then? Shall we test your handiwork and the strength of a few assorted screws?” Aaron asked.

Reid shot straight up off the divan, wrapped both arms around Hotch’s neck, and latched onto his mouth, sucking, biting, kissing, mewling, pleading between messy, quick smooches.

“Please....oh god….anywhere....fuck me….yes?” 

“Dinner first. I got your favorite ....” 

Reid’s mouth started moving downward, his frame moved downward, and Hotch nearly passed out as all the blood in his body went south too. They were not going to make it to the bed, the couch, or the kitchen table, that much was clear. Reid’s nimble fingers undid Hotch’s shirt, tore off his jacket, undid his belt, and went inside his trousers with a startling rapidity. Thirty dollars worth of moo-shoo pork was about to get very cold.

It was Hotch’s turn to whimper at the introduction of a far-too skilled tongue, and gentle lips, and the burn of stubble, and the kind of suction that could make any man dizzy and speechless. His dick thought they had died and gone to Heaven. He promised he would never speak ill of Reid ever ever again as long as he lived. Where the hell had he learned to do this so well?

Hotch was dimly aware that his knees were buckling. The carpet swallowed him, scratched his bare legs. He may have banged his elbow on the coffee table on the way down. He couldn’t have cared less. Hotch opened his eyes and lifted one foot, then the other, as Reid was deftly stripping off Aaron’s pants and boxers and shoes.

Reid was smirking, a bewitching sprite. He kissed one of Hotch’s knees, then the other, pushing the strong thighs gently apart. Hotch wondered what sort of mental image of him Reid was filing away in his mind, sprawled back on the carpet like some horny teenager.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Spencer chuckled, bowing his slender frame between Aaron’s spread legs, long tongue stroking the length of Aaron’s shaft, making Hotch draw in a shaking breath. Aaron lifted one hand to caress Spencer’s face, wanted to feel his hair. Reid grabbed the hand, holding it tight to the carpet with a biting grip.

“What?” Hotch gasped.

Reid loomed over him, eyes narrowed, a sharp, angry expression on his thin face.

“You may not touch me when I’m doing this for you. Don’t touch my hair. Don’t touch my face. Don’t. Just don’t. Okay?”

Hotch nodded wildly. He would have agreed to any request at that point. Spencer’s anger disappeared back to whatever compartment he kept it in. The edges of Hotch’s own bathrobe brushed his skin as Spencer bent over Aaron’s aching cock and swallowed him tip to root, bobbing up and back again with practiced precision. Aaron keened loudly in appreciation. Reid’s lips retreated, became a fuzzy memory as the tip of his talented tongue barely grazed, gently teased, traced the crown. Aaron heard himself whimpering. Reid eased back on him, going more slowly, more cautiously, concentrating on the very tip of his head, working skilled fingers around him, stroking masterfully.

‘Well, if there was anything Reid would be good at,’ Hotch thought maliciously to himself.

Just when Aaron was gaining a small portion of self control back, he opened his eyes and watched Reid swallow him whole again, eyes shut tight in concentration. Hotch cried out. One of Reid’s eyes opened, then the other, and the sweet tickle of suppressed amusement surrounded Aaron’s cock. Reid took pity, stopped teasing, and got down to business. And broke the two minute mark by about ten seconds. Reid left Hotch calling out strange syllables instead of his name, because he wasn’t sure what to call this man. “Spencer” was too many syllables to get out when you couldn’t catch your breath. “Reid” sounded pretty good when screamed out loud, but seemed more than a little formal for the guy making you feel this good. “Doctor” would have been too strange. “Master” would have been more appropriate, because Aaron had never felt so schooled in all his life.

One hand came up from the carpet, meant to warn of the inevitable. Reid seized the hand with the fast snatch of a snake charmer, keeping it well away as he drank Aaron absolutely dry.

When blood returned to Hotch’s brain and his eyes worked again, a lovely vision swam over him. Spencer climbed onto Hotch’s hips, kissed his forehead, breathed musky, salty kisses to his mouth. Reid knew he had impressed Hotch, and he was happy for it. Gleeful, even. Sandy wet curls tickled Hotch’s feverish skin as Spencer nuzzled along his neck and chest, nosing through dark hair. Hotch’s robe was pooling over both of them. Reid had slithered out of it at some point and Hotch hadn’t even noticed.

”Want more?” Reid asked, chin on Aaron’s chest, waiting, eyes dancing with eager mischief.

Hotch wanted to seize this unimagined wonder with both hands and refuse to let him go again, but he was remembering the admonition of ”no hands” and he didn’t want to break any rules, not yet. So he nodded carefully in reply to the question.

”Okay to touch?” he tested. Spencer nodded.

So many things fell into place in Hotch’s mind as he heard that dire admonition echo back to him in his head. He stroked one finger down the bridge of Reid’s nose, paused over his beautiful lips, pushed hair back over his ear, caressed his jawline so tenderly. Hotch hoped the pity coursing through him wasn’t showing on his face.

Reid’s eyes opened once more, the shadow of terror hidden carefully away. Mischief returned, but it was clearly a mask to cover the fear underneath. Hotch felt his heart quaking. Did he dare open that door? He heard Rossi’s warning again, coupled with his own instincts on the matter. It was more than Mariner on Reid’s mind. So much more than one man, one night, three minutes of violence had caused this kind of pain. Did Hotch dare open that door?

“Nice bed upstairs. Care to try it out?” Hotch offered out loud, promising himself he would do anything take away all the pain and make the bad memories both old and new a distant blur.


	6. Chapter 6

Epilogue

 

“Reid? Earth to Reid.”

Morgan ducked into view and moved to catch Reid’s eyes as they both walked into the elevator on Monday morning for the ride to their office. The young doctor was leaning against the buttons, trying to remember which one to push, trying to clear his mind of the feeling of Hotch's hands and mouth all over his body, Hotch's cock buried deep inside him, Hotch's teeth digging into his neck.

“Oh, hi,” Spencer whispered, cleared his rough throat. Morgan’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, hi, you,” Derek replied, staring intently at Spencer.

“Hold the elevator!” Prentiss shouted, sprinting across the lobby. Morgan put out a hand and caught the doors in time. Emily vaulted inside the car, then straightened herself back to a dignified stance. Morgan let the doors slide closed, replying a nod to Emily’s thanks. Then Prentiss did a double-take at Reid, who sheepishly stared at the floor and struggled to control the smile that lit his face.

“Oh my goodness. Look at you,” Emily snickered.

Spencer hung his head lower, covering his face with one hand. Emily was never one to mince words.

“Did you spend the entire weekend spread-eagle in Hotch’s bed?” Prentiss asked. Spencer’s eyes flashed at her.

“No, I was up-right now and again,” Reid answered tartly.

Morgan tightened his face to keep from laughing out loud. Reid reverted to shy shame.

“Am I that obvious?” Reid wondered, lifting little-boy eyes cautiously to Emily, as if he expected to be chastised. Morgan and Prentiss both nodded.

“You’re glowing,” Emily told him.

“Like a supernova,” Derek agreed.

“You should see the other guy,” Reid grinned injudiciously. Prentiss groaned and rolled her eyes with pretend jealousy. Morgan’s mouth opened wide, and he hit the stop button with a quick snap of his hand. He took Reid by both shoulders and held him in place.

”Deep breath. Deep breath,” Morgan said.

Spencer nodded and obeyed, breathing along with Derek.

“Think about blood and muck and fish guts and vermin and.....and knives and sharp things and guns blazing....”

“Is that a bite on your neck?” Emily asked, reaching around Derek and lowering Reid’s collar a little.

“Shower,” Reid whispered, letting a thin smile slip out. 

“On your ear?”

“Bedroom.” Reid drawled.

Her fingers crawled around to the side, then the back. “Oh my god. He bit your neck. From behind?”

“Kitchen table. Den? Kitchen table….I think. Maybe the back of the divan?”

“Shut up already,” Prentiss whined, messing up Reid’s hair with both hands.

“I need a cold shower,” Morgan growled.

“We’re happy for you, both of you, really we are,” Prentiss smiled. ”Now quit looking so giddy.”

“Don’t make me start Monday morning having to slap that silly look off your face,” Morgan warned.

The elevator started moving again, and they all jolted apart.

“Someone’s impatient to see you, I guess,” Morgan commented. Reid straightened his collar and his tie. Ran both hands through his hair. Hugged his bag closer.

The elevator hit their floor, and the doors popped open. JJ was there, a quizzical expression on her face. Her eyes scanned them, and she was all business.

“Child abduction. I’ll brief you in flight. Hotch and Rossi are already headed to the plane.”

She squeezed into their midst and tapped the buttons again. Shifted her briefcase to her other hand. Put her arm around Spencer’s waist. Gave him a tiny hug.

“Good morning,” JJ said softly. “Everyone have a good weekend?”

“Mine was nice, but not as good as Reid’s was,” Prentiss pouted. JJ gave Reid a sideways glance. He smiled sheepishly. She smiled back.

“Don’t you believe that innocent face for one second. Bedroom, shower, den, kitchen table. Like some twisted game of Clue!” Morgan complained.

“Did this involve candlesticks, lead pipes, ropes?” Prentiss wondered. Reid’s mouth rounded in shock before he covered it again.

“Weren’t you in the utility room? That’s what I heard,” JJ murmured. Reid went even more red than before, but refused to let them have the satisfaction of knowing they had ruffled him.

“We were waiting for the washer to stop,” Reid blurted. “What else is there to do?”

Prentiss reached around Morgan and JJ to pinch Spencer. Reid squirmed out of reach, tucking his head down to his chest to muffle his laugh.

“Business, everyone. Duty calls,” JJ said, clearing her throat and looking stern.


End file.
